Old pictures
My brother-in-law Aaron e-mailed a picture to me today, a picture of Jill and I sitting on some rocks on the Maine coast. Aaron took the picture when we were together this past summer at a family reunion in Maine. My parents, my two brothers, my sister, and two of their spouses got together in a big house and had a wonderful week together near Bar Harbor.
I was glad to get the picture because it was quite a good one, especially of Jill who as usual was looking pretty. And as I looked at it, I found myself longing for that moment again: I wished it were the summer, I wished it were warm, I wished the Greek exam I'm facing next Friday wasn't coming so soon, I wished I was right close to those I love again. I go through this a lot when I get pictures; I get kind of melancholy, wishing that the occasion of the picture was here again: the vacation, the birthday, the reunion. I look forward to those times coming again.
But then I looked closer at the smiling eyes and realized what was behind them, and it wasn't as idyllic as it looked to me today. There was hurt there, a dissatisfaction with life on that day; there was no special pain exactly, just a dull ache that most of us feel from time to time. And I realized I wasn't happy in that moment either. I smiled for the camera, but I wasn't happy. Even then, on that marvelous vacation, I was longing for the past and for the future--anything except the present.
We live in a culture that realizes that only the past and the future can make you spend money. We nostalgically long to re-create a past that didn't exist, a simpler time that was really more complex than we admit; and to bring it back, we spend money. We desire to create a fantasy future for ourselves and our families, living the good life, enjoying the best the culture has to offer. To create that future, we spend money. So the advertisers like to bring us face-to-face with the past and the future at all times. The result of all this focus on the past and on the future makes us disregard the present, which is after all, the most consistent gift God gives us. The ironic result is that we are working so hard to re-create our past and secure our future that we are completely unaware of what God is doing in the present.
We long so much for endings and beginnings that we forget that most of life is "middle time," and God made it that way. We long so much for the past and the future that we categorically reject God's precious gift of the present.
I put the picture up on my computer anyway. I love it. And in time, I will learn to love it rightly: as a precious gift to be honored but not idealized, celebrated but not worshiped, remembered but not imprisoning me.
I was glad to get the picture because it was quite a good one, especially of Jill who as usual was looking pretty. And as I looked at it, I found myself longing for that moment again: I wished it were the summer, I wished it were warm, I wished the Greek exam I'm facing next Friday wasn't coming so soon, I wished I was right close to those I love again. I go through this a lot when I get pictures; I get kind of melancholy, wishing that the occasion of the picture was here again: the vacation, the birthday, the reunion. I look forward to those times coming again.
But then I looked closer at the smiling eyes and realized what was behind them, and it wasn't as idyllic as it looked to me today. There was hurt there, a dissatisfaction with life on that day; there was no special pain exactly, just a dull ache that most of us feel from time to time. And I realized I wasn't happy in that moment either. I smiled for the camera, but I wasn't happy. Even then, on that marvelous vacation, I was longing for the past and for the future--anything except the present.
We live in a culture that realizes that only the past and the future can make you spend money. We nostalgically long to re-create a past that didn't exist, a simpler time that was really more complex than we admit; and to bring it back, we spend money. We desire to create a fantasy future for ourselves and our families, living the good life, enjoying the best the culture has to offer. To create that future, we spend money. So the advertisers like to bring us face-to-face with the past and the future at all times. The result of all this focus on the past and on the future makes us disregard the present, which is after all, the most consistent gift God gives us. The ironic result is that we are working so hard to re-create our past and secure our future that we are completely unaware of what God is doing in the present.
We long so much for endings and beginnings that we forget that most of life is "middle time," and God made it that way. We long so much for the past and the future that we categorically reject God's precious gift of the present.
I put the picture up on my computer anyway. I love it. And in time, I will learn to love it rightly: as a precious gift to be honored but not idealized, celebrated but not worshiped, remembered but not imprisoning me.
posted by Rev. Michael Jordan at 4:45 PM
3 Comments:
Good post Mike. It brought back a lot of memories to me. Things like Dick R. You and I shoveling snow off the roof of the Narthex during your first year there and my jumping off the roof into the snow, and I'm scared of Heights.
I find that I miss winter, we did have a coupe of days in the 30's this year though
We worry too much about where we have been and where we are going while ignoring where we are. Too much time on the mechanics of life and not enough time on the more important parts of life, God and People.
When Jeff S. gives his first sermon make sure and set the alarm clock to go off. Rest assured for some reason he WILL blame ME
Bob L.
miss you too Bob! Glad for this blog so you can kind of check in on us.
We miss winter too this year--no snow, hardly even any in the Poconos. Maybe there's something to this global warming stuff after all... :)
Mike
All that - and you don't post the picture? ;)
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